


Pinned

by Fable



Series: Merlin [17]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Episode: s05e03 The Death Song of Uther Pendragon, Horn of Cathbad, M/M, Oral Sex, Pinned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-07-02
Packaged: 2018-02-07 01:20:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1879617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fable/pseuds/Fable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happened between Arthur blowing the Horn of Cathbad, which sent Uther back into the spirit world, and the final ‘glove’ scene? Surely, Merlin pinned helplessly to a door cannot be resisted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pinned

I closed my eyes and dropped my head. The yearning to be still was overwhelming. He nearly said it, Uther Pendragon; he nearly told Arthur my secret. The time for that was not now and certainly not from the mouth of a tyrannical King. I will be the one to tell Arthur, and I felt that time was close.

A clatter reverberated around the armoury and broke me from my reverie. I lifted my head. The Horn of Cathbad, that Arthur had used to drive his father back to the spirit world, was still spinning on the flags where he’d dropped it. The King himself was slumped and breathing in rough gasps. I shifted in my restraints, the two enchanted spears Uther had impaled through my jacket, held me fast. It was ironic that the man who loathed all things magical had, in the end, powers of his own.

Arthur moved into the space between the wooden shafts. He faced me for a moment; I could see his eyes were wet from tears, and a flush of sadness on his cheeks. His breath was hot on my face. He leaned in. His lips were on mine, his tongue searching. I let him in, and uttered a soft moan as he pressed deep.

Arthur’s hands pushed under my tunic and explored my goose-bumped skin, prompting my body to shudder.

‘Is this the time and place Arthur…?’ The chances of Leon walking in were high, and what Arthur was doing with his hands certainly wasn’t poetry. He ignored me and let his fingers, calloused from the sword, trace along my ribs and onto the soft part of my side. I jolted; Arthur knew I was ticklish there. He let his touch meander and laughed at my attempts to move away. I didn’t know, or care, if his actions were from relief that his father had gone, or a sudden longing for his bound servant. Whatever was running through the King’s mind, whatever he wanted, I would give him.

Arthur followed an urgent line down from my navel and his fingers traced the strained shape pushed against my breeches—over and over, as if he was committing me to memory. My body reacted; I groaned and arched against the spears that held me. I was vulnerable. Arthur liked that. Arthur like that a lot.

Whipping off my neckerchief he mouthed along my collarbone and up towards my jawline. They were not sweet and affectionate kisses but desperate and hungry ones like he’d been deprived of me for a very long time. It was actually only two days ago when he’d slyly taken me behind a tree on patrol. His weight pressed me into the door as he wound his fingers through my hair and pulled my head to one side. He sucked a line of red welts under my ear. Arthur liked his marks of ownership, and he liked to place them so they were difficult to hide. He got a wicked thrill from watching my fidgety hands trying to conceal them from Gaius. It was going to be tricky explaining them away—again. I’d had many an excusing stare as I’d stolen through the physicians chambers in the dead of night, with my clothes in hand and my body aching from cavorting wherever the fancy had taken us.

Arthur nudged my legs apart. My body ached for him, a burn in the depths of my being. My love for this man stretched from desire to protection. Our destinies were entwined from the moment he forced my arm up my back and then threw me in jail. Now, all these years later, Arthur was roughly palming me and applying just the right amount of pressure to finish me off there and then. ‘What do you want?’  He breathed.

I wanted him. Of course, I wanted him. ‘Remove the spears Arthur.’ My throat was dry and the words came out whispered.

‘Not on your life.’ He growled and undid my belt. My breeches dropped. A chill in the room prickled my skin and a deliciously exposed feeling swept over me. ‘You’re just where I want you.’ With a sly grin on his face, he dropped to his knees. He caught the horn as he went down, it skittered across the flags into a dark corner—to this day, I do not recall if we ever recovered it from where it settled.

Arthur placed his hands on my hipbones and held my lower body in place. I dropped my head and breathed in the sight. My thoughts whipped into froth, how had we gone from fighting for our lives, to Arthur now taking me in his hot mouth in a cold armoury? I could still feel the suggestion of his father in the room. I trusted that he wasn’t able to still see us. This, he wouldn’t have understood. Arthur glanced up and his eyes flicked a smile. The expression said everything—our mutual understanding and the desire to be in each other breeches whenever we got the opportunity. His ordeal ruffled hair stood in spiky fingers and, with his fabulous mouth under it, moved—slowly. I needed him to move faster. Arthur enjoyed taking his time; he liked to take me to the _begging for release_ point. Usually, he liked to combine this with the smell of leather in the stables or pushed against a tree in the woodland surrounding Camelot.

Yearning tumbled with sudden exhaustion. ‘Arthur. Faster.’ I rustled through gritted teeth. He hummed a reply and the vibrations buzzed through me. One of the few times I can quieten the King, silence his demands and orders, is when his mouth is full of me. It makes me feel like I have power over him, and that always feel so good.

‘ _Art-hur_...’ I hollowed my back and thrust into him. My toes curled and I clamped my mouth shut, I am vocal in the throes of passion, a fact that took me aback… and Arthur.

Arthur gave a throaty laugh that pulsated up my spine. He liked my grunts and calls; he said it gratified him to listen to me. Surprisingly, he obeyed my needs; I felt fingers wind tightly around me as he worked a hard rhythm between hand, mouth, and tongue. My body stiffened as I threw my head back. I came, grunting and growling into the darkness.

Hanging from my impaled jacket and breathing hard I repeated. ‘Did you think that this was the right place and the right time Arthur?’

Arthur stood to face me. He had the same playful look on his face as when he made me polish brass with perfect George. He ran his fingers along his lips then along mine, I could taste myself. ‘I couldn’t resist. Though, I might leave you here for the guards to find.’

‘You wouldn’t.’ There was a possibility he may.

Arthur lightly traced my cheekbone. I shuddered. ‘I know there’s a particular guard who has an eye for you. He’ll think it’s his lucky day if he found you like this.’ Arthur took a step back and made a show of scanning my body. I must have been a sight, pinned to a door by two spears with my breeches around my ankles and exposed for all to see.

‘You’re kidding.’ Again, he may not have been. ‘Who is it?’ I asked casually.

Arthur laughed. ‘He guards the northern gate. He’s got a crooked nose and missing teeth.’

‘Lovely.’ I wriggled and slipped out of my jacket, leaving it pinned to the door.

‘Merlin, you could have got free at any time!’ Arthur exclaimed.

I grinned at him. ‘And why would I have wanted to do that Arthur?’

He slapped me across the head.

‘Ow.’ I complained. ‘You are always hitting me.’

‘I am not,’ he said before bracing one foot against the door. ‘I want you back here in the morning. I reckon it’s my turn and I have some leather gloves that’ll do the job nicely.’ He drew out the spears and my jacket dropped to the floor.

\----

Creeping past the sleeping form of the old physician, I risked a glance at his face. He was awake. Of course.

‘Merlin?’

‘Gaius.’ I felt like a naughty child.

‘You sent Uther back then?’

‘Yes.’

‘Um.’ The old man raised an eyebrow.

Oh God… it was coming. I tensed.

‘What are those marks on your neck?’

It was futile to lie to Gaius. I sighed. ‘Arthur,’ I said.

Gaius swung out of bed, for an older form, he was surprisingly agile. He was with me within two paces. With no words, just rumbled noises in his throat, he twisted my head towards the candlelight. I would have rather he’d spoken, the grumbles were making me nervous.

‘Small bruises caused by sucking of the skin,’ he said in conclusion. He took a step back and frowned. ‘Merlin, your _re-la-tion-ship_ with the King, are you sure you’re doing the right thing… for everyone involved?’

Oh God, that was a heavy question. After exiling Uther’s spirit, nearly been punctured, and then having Arthur ravish me while I was pinned to a door, it had been a busy night. ‘Gaius, it was inevitable. We are, as Kilgharrah said, two sides of the same coin. We were destined for each other… in one way or another.’ I took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. ‘Don’t worry.’ I made my way up the steps to my small chamber.

‘Merlin.’

I turned. ‘Here.’ Gaius threw me a pot. ‘It’s Arnica, for the bruises.’

I scuttled back to him and kissed him on the forehead. He batted me away. It was only a few hours until morning. I thought about Arthur’s soft leather gloves and concluded that I had better get as much sleep as I could.

 


End file.
